


ob·ses·sion

by skyjoos



Series: Definition of Love [3]
Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M, M/M, Obsession, Older Characters, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rape/Non-con Elements, Stalking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-25
Updated: 2018-05-14
Packaged: 2019-03-23 22:09:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13797339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skyjoos/pseuds/skyjoos
Summary: ob·ses·sion: əbˈseSHən: /noun/The state of being obsessed with someone or something.Jeremy's life is completely normal now.





	1. Beginnings

“Jer! How have you been? I can’t believe it’s been two months!”

 

It’s Christine, one of my best friends since high school. She briskly walked into the coffee shop, like she knew I was there. Of course she didn’t really know that I’d be here since we never planned to meet, but I can’t help but let the paranoia settle in. Christine doesn’t notice me freaking out, she just smiles and wraps me in a hug that’s too tight. I can feel my chest beginning to burst. I have to sort this out in my head.

 

I decided to grab coffee before I went back to class. This week has been wild and I knew coffee would help me remain calm. It’s the same shop I’ve been buying my fuel from since I started college two years ago. It’s undergone some name changes. It used to be ‘Grinds’, which was my favorite of the names. And for the first few months of my freshmen year it was something in French. Now it’s known as ‘Dave’s Grinds’ which doesn’t have the same ring as just ‘Grinds’.

 

I’m getting off topic again. I need to focus.

 

Christine, the beautiful girl she is, must be visiting her father. That’s why she’s in town, it has to be. But regardless, she’s here and she walked right into ‘Dave’s Grinds’ to say hello to me. I’m glad she’s here, Christine’s acted as an anchor for me ever since what happened.

 

I don’t want to think about what happened.

 

And thankfully I don’t have to. Christine jumps right into a story about something that happened at her dorm room with her roommate. I nod my head and pretend, even if it’s just for a second, that I’m interested. At least I don’t have to think when I’m listening. Christine tells the tale of how her roommate brought a guy over, which is typical of college girls. But, he roommate didn’t have a condom and neither did her beau for the night. Christine had to be the savior and run down to the convience store to buy condoms.

 

“They have to be non-latex, I’m allergic to latex,” Christine mimicked the guy’s voice when he asked her to grab him some.

 

Christine rolled her eyes after her impression and I let her spew her thoughts.

 

“Who the hell is allergic to latex? Anyway, so I ran down to the store but of-freaking-course: They didn’t have latex-free condoms! So I ran down to ‘Vinney’s’, you know the little mock 711 on Foreman’s St? And they weren’t even open! It had to be like, ten at night at this point and I wanted to just go to dad’s and crash but I knew Sarah would give me Hell. So, I ended up going back to the dorm room and Jesus fuck, Jeremy! You won’t believe this!”  


Christine left an awkward pause in the middle of her story. Did she expect me to chime in? I nod briskly as to let her finish.

 

“I walked in and he was using a plastic bag! A plastic bag right on his dick! I mean, I know I should’ve knocked and all but Holy Christ. Imagine using a Walmart bag as a condom.”

 

Although I wasn’t too interested at first, now the story had me hooked and I actually laughed outright. Not that the story itself was funny but it was Christine’s question that had me rolling. I actually did picture myself having sex with a girl using a plastic bag. The intimate feeling of sex is ruined once you look down to see a bag sliding in and out of you.

 

Christine laughed at her own story and ended the fit with a sigh. She looked around the shop, probably inspecting coffee prices. Her eyes landed on me. I knew those eyes. She looked sympathetic, her eyes filled with mist and worry. I had to bite back a noise in my throat. I knew what was going to happen next.

 

Christine wrapped her hands in mine and pulled them close. She lowered her voice to just above a whisper.

 

“How have you _really_   been, Jeremy? Any nightmares or night terrors? You know you can talk to me,” she said in a voice so sincere I felt bad for lying.

 

“None really. A few on the odds days but recently I’ve been feeling good, less anxious even,” I lied.

 

I hoped I’d said the right thing. I hated lying to Christine, but I hated telling her the truth even more. The truth was that I haven’t been better since she last saw me. If anything, I’ve been worse. My nightmares have increased to nearly every night. I get nervous by everything now. Even small things like Christine’s true intentions of walking into ‘Dave’s Grinds’. Nothing’s been better but if I told Christine all this she’d set me up with more doctors and even more drugs. She’d bug me about it for weeks. I love how much she cares but I don’t want her to care to the point where she doesn’t care about herself.

 

It must be my lucky day because she actually believes my words. Her lips pull into a wide smile and her eyes go from sympathetic to blissful. I smile for her. She wraps her arms around me in a big hug and exhales deeply.

 

“I’m so happy, Jer. You deserve to be happy. Besides the obvious, any good news as of late?”

 

I tell her about my grades, they’re good and I’ve actually been studying. She smiles and reflects on her own grades. Christine’s been working on getting her teaching degree at Holland and her grades show how dedicated she is to it. We talk about roommates and friends and parties. Normal college talk. I love talking with Christine. She’s so bubbly and ecstatic about everything, it’s no wonder she’s going to be a teacher.

 

It isn’t long before she checks her phone and sighs with the passing of time. I check my own phone and notice it’s already dinner time. Christine stands and we hug once more before she’s out the door. I go to the counter and buy myself a second coffee and take it out with me into the March weather. I walk the length of the street and turn into the street that holds my apartment.

 

It’s the first house I’ve lived in by myself. My first two years of college I lived in the dorms working part-time at a campus lounge. Years of saving and promotions at work and summer jobs with dad finally paid off. Now I can afford to live on my own in a studio apartment. I thought the move would help with my anxiety since it would be spacious and free of pesky roommates. But it did little to curve my fears.

 

I still wake up in cold sweats every night. I still find myself crying for no reason, sitting on the shower floor. I still space off and think of _him_. I have to will myself to forget my inner monologue and take the elevator to my apartment. Once I reach the fifth floor, I exit and head right. I whisk my keys out and enter. The day has been hectic and a nap would really suffice. I drop my messenger bag on the floor and swing my keys on the rack. I flick the light switch on.

 

I’m frozen solid.

 

Because strewn throughout my apartment are dozens of flowers. All in glass vases and filled with at least thirty in each. There must be one hundred in total. I clutch my chest and fall to my knees, my heartbeat roars inside.

 

I can’t breathe.

 

Because I know:

 

He’s found me.


	2. Chapter 2

It’s _him_. He found me. 

I thought I escaped him years ago. Back when he was arrested. Back when I felt safe. But now he’s back somehow and even though I have no proof that this is his doing, I can somehow sense it. I can see him lining up each vase and smirking to himself. I can see him breaking into my apartment and going through my shit. The smug bastard. 

I try to be angry at him. At the way the world works. I think back to everything he put me through and the pain I still feel from it. But I break down. I feel my knees give out. I crash to the cool floor and break down into hysterical sobbing. It isn’t fair. After everything I did to get him out of my life. I know crying won’t get me anywhere and that I should call for help. But I can’t bring myself to think rationally. 

I curl into a ball on my floor and unleash at least an hour’s worth of sobs. I don’t know how long my panic attack lasts but I know that when I get back up, nothing has changed. The roses are still there. The monster I once called my friend is still out there. I stand up and reach the vases, all placed facing the door. The sick fuck wanted to make sure the first thing I saw would be the flowers. 

I reach one of the many roses filling the brim of the vase. I look around the room as I finger the flower. I count fourteen vases stacked with twelve roses each. That’s 168 roses. He must have spent a fortune on them. I glance at the vases surrounding the door, looking for a card. One vase, the furthest to the left, has a yellow parchment attached to one of it’s lush roses. I pluck the card from the rose and flip it over. 

**Nice to see you’re still as beautiful as ever, Jeremiah.**

I throw the card across the room, feeling violated. It lands somewhere in my small living area. I take in the scene surrounding me. Fourteen fucking vases of roses. 168 roses in total. All from a sick, sadistic bastard who’s come back to torture me. I scream in earnest and kick the nearest vase. Water and a dozen roses spill onto the floor has the cheap glass breaks into a million small fractals. I scream again and kick another. And another. And another. 

I smash all fourteen vases and ruin every single damn flower with my foot. 

Once the chaos around me dies, I take it all in again. I let out a final scream before falling into a ball. My screams turn to sobs and my sobs eventually turn to weeps. 

_Fuck you, Michael Mell._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait. My computer broke and writing has been difficult. Please tell me what you think of this work. This work came to me in a pinch way back in February. My inspiration has died since then for it but I felt in the mood to continue with it today. I don't really like the concept but I do like writing in the tone the fic creates. I've been feeling more angsty lately with my writing. We'll see how this goes. See ya, Sky.


End file.
